


Bad Day

by SleepingReader



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 07:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13453719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/pseuds/SleepingReader
Summary: Imelda has a bad day. First, she hits a creepy customer so hard the heel of her shoe falls off. Then her family lose the large order that the man was placing. Then, her parents yell at her. And to make everything worse, Héctor is out of town.Or is he?





	Bad Day

Imelda wandered aimlessly through Mariachi Plaza. The market was in town, but she could hardly focus on the brightly coloured stalls selling fragrant fruits. Nor could she focus on the many types of fabric blowing in the wind. In her mind, everything was clouded. Today was a bad day. Not only did she lose her family a very important order, she also argued about it with her mother and father. The man in question, who had placed the order, had been less than civil with her, and had kept trying to get her alone. Then, he had tried to kiss her.  
Imelda had hit him so hard with her shoe that the heel had fallen off. How could she have known that he was one of the most-beloved wrestlers in Santa Cecilia? He had been a creep, and so she showed him where exactly he could stick his affections. Then, of course, her mamá had interfered, yelling at Imelda about how they needed this order to get through the month. Then Imelda’s father had said his piece.

So now, here Imelda was, wandering without a reason. She wished she knew where she was going. She wished her family would _understand_.  
She wished… Most of all she just wanted a hug. That someone told her that what she had done was right. But of course, her family wouldn’t. Her brothers might, but they had just been sent out to deliver a dozen of dresses for a wedding. They wouldn’t be back until the weekend. And Héctor… She barely knew the boy, she told herself. But she also knew he was away on one of his concerts with the man named Ernesto.  
She didn’t expect them back too quick either.  
Imelda sighed and let her hands trail over one of the wind-touched fabrics. It was a bright orange, something she would never wear, but still enjoyed looking at. She thought about buying it, and then decided she didn’t want anything to do with fabrics or dresses today. Or the next week, for that matter.

She walked over to the stall next to the fabrics. It was a leather shop, owned by an ageing shoemaker. The scent of leather always calmed Imelda, for some reason. She wondered why. She stroked the leather, having always had an eye for fabrics and leathers. The leather was soft and supple. But she couldn’t do anything with it, so, practical as she was, she let it go.  
She sat on a bench.

She had disappointed her family. She had lost very valuable profits. And she could still feel that man’s sticky hands on her waist. She shuddered. His breath had smelled awful.  
She looked down and realised that she was only wearing one shoe. Of course. She had thrown the other at the wrestler. The heel had already gone anyway. Her sock was wet and torn.  
It didn’t matter.

She sat there for a time, staring at her big toe poking out of one of the holes in her sock. An ant walked near her unshod foot. She wiggled her toe sometimes, feeling numb. She blocked out the world, and focused instead on the ant, who was trying to pick up a large breadcrumb.

Then, the soft notes of a guitar began to reach her ears. The melody was quiet, almost polite, as if it knocked on Imelda’s ears first before coming inside. When it was allowed entrance, it flowed like a river. It was the sort of melody that tells you everything is okay. That whatever you did, it couldn’t be that bad. Imelda looked up. Clear brown eyes met her cloudy ones.  
Héctor stood on the elevated platform in Mariachi plaza, playing alone. When he saw that he had caught her eye, he smiled. The melody changed. It was still soft, but there was a hint of playfulness in it now. Imelda’s eyes widened. Héctor had somehow managed to flow seamlessly from the sad song he was playing into one he had composed for her. It didn’t have words yet. Still it was the melody of _‘Poco Loco’_ that reached her ears. Héctor played it slowly. He smiled softly at Imelda. She hadn’t noticed, but she had risen from her bench, and had walked a couple of paces toward him.  
‘Héctor…’ she said quietly. Héctor smiled wider. He walked towards her, still playing his guitar. _Poco Loco_ had changed into something soft and melodious. A question. Before she knew it, Imelda stood in front of the musician. He stopped playing. Héctor hoisted his guitar onto his back.  
“ _Hola,_ Imelda… I’m back!’ he said.

Imelda stifled a sob, and practically threw herself into his arms. He caught her immediately, and Imelda felt warm arms wrap around her and hold her tight. It didn’t take long for Imelda to break. She sobbed into Héctor’s shoulder. He held her tighter, one hand on her back, the other in her hair. He stroked it softly, trying to comfort her.  
Before both really wanted to, they broke apart.  
‘ _Disculpe_ ,’ Imelda said, wiping her eyes. ‘It was a… bad day.’  
‘Never apologise for a bad day, Imelda.’ Héctor said to her, looking down into her eyes. His eyes were smiling. How did he do that?  
‘Do… Do you want to talk about it?’ Héctor asked.  
‘There was this man in the shop… He tried to kiss me and I hit him but it also lost us a large order. My family is angry at me now and told me that I should just let him kiss me. As if!’ Imelda scoffed. She fidgeted with her hands. Héctor took them.  
‘He hurt you, and you hit him. He deserved it.’ he said, looking to her hands. Without thinking, he brought them up to his lips and kissed them.  
He felt like a complete _burro_. He started apologising, but Imelda threw her arms around him again. He quickly hugged her back. She sighed against his chest. They had not hugged before today, but it felt right. As if their bodies fitted perfectly together. As if the hug Héctor gave her was just a physical representation of the music he had played before. The day felt warmer somehow, as if Héctor carried a sun in his pocket. Or maybe in his eyes.  
Wait, what?  
Did she actually _like_ this tall boy? Uncoordinated and clumsy and… kind of cute, she supposed. Her family had said it before, but she had refused to believe it.

‘Imelda?’ she felt, more than heard, Héctor ask.  
‘ _Sí?_ ’  
‘Where did you put your shoe?’ He asked.  
‘I… put it on his head.’ She replied. ‘Hit him with it, I mean. Broke the heel.’  
She felt him shake against her, and realised he was laughing. She smiled against his chest.

‘I should put that sentence in a song,’ he murmured, still giggling. He let her go, took her hand, and twirled her.  
‘Where should I put my shoe, _amiga_ , _amiga_. You say ‘Put them on your head!’ _amiga_ _amiga_ …’ he sang to the tune of her song. To the tune of Poco Loco. Imelda felt her heart swell a bit at the sound of his voice. Héctor, singing and dancing with her.  
‘Though _amiga_ sounds a bit weird. I’ll have to find another word.’ Héctor’s right hand rubbed at his chin, the way he always did when he was thinking.

‘How about “ _ay, mi amor_ ”’ Imelda suggested. ‘Might sound better…’  
Héctor tried it: ‘Where should I put my shoe, _ay mi amor_ , _ay mi amor_? You say “Put them on your head!” _ay mi amor_ , _ay mi amor_ …’ he sang.  
‘Yes! That’s it!’ He exclaimed, and hugged Imelda again. Her heart skipped a beat, which didn’t help much. This was a happy hug, not one filled with sadness. Imelda laughed as she hugged him back. Héctor sang something into her hair. It was soft, but Imelda still heard it.

To the tune of _Poco Loco_ , Héctor sang:  
‘I would be telling the truth, _ay mi amor_ , _ay mi amor_.’

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who lost her job today.  
> It's me!  
> Wasn't even my own fault. Dumb-ass budget cuts. 
> 
> So instead of me crying, have me writing!  
> Thanks to all the friends and parents who are offering hugs today. I thought Imelda might like one too.


End file.
